Why do we leave things behind?
This old barn sits alongside Route 309. The farm to which it must belong is across a very dangerous intersection. As you can see from the original picture, there's even a sign warning of the sharp curve on which the intersection is located.
I suspect that this barn was largely abandoned when 309 was built. As I said, the intersection is located right on a curve. Who wants to try to cross the road there, especially on a slow-moving tractor. Or even worse, with a horse and wagon?
That being said, there are other abandoned barns and houses scattered all over the county. Is it so easy to leave things behind?
Do destitute families leave with tearful backward glances, devastated at the family's inability to maintain the land/farm/home that they worked so hard to keep? Or do they leave dry-eyed, stubbornly refusing to weep over what is soon to become the past? Is it a mixture of both?
How do we abandon something we once loved without it leaving a hole in our heart?